


Silver Lining

by usopping



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2643938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usopping/pseuds/usopping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a terrible day at school, a car splashing him on the walk home is the last straw for Zoro. But as his frustration boils over, he is mortified to see a certain leggy blond climb out of the car and starts towards him....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by an OTP Prompt on tumblr. Upon completion I was unable to find the post again.

That morning, Zoro's alarm clock didn't go off and he missed first period entirely. There'd be hell to pay tomorrow; his homeroom teacher was already fed up with his tendency to show up late. He'd totally forgotten about the history test second period and had to bullshit his way through it, which meant he'd probably bombed. At lunch, he realized he'd left his wallet at home, and since there was no way he could get there and back before class started, he went hungry. By the middle of third period, he had the beginnings of a headache, and when the bell rang for fourth, it had bloomed into a full-fledged migraine. He thought he was home free when class was finally dismissed for the day, but he'd hardly made it off school property when the sky opened up.

Now Zoro was cold and soaked to the bone. His head was pounding, his stomach was growling, and he was fucking pissed. It was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other to make his way home. His only thought was, _Thank fuck it's Friday_. He planned to order some take-out and get drunk as hell.

He'd just turned a corner when it happened. The car was a small, crappy Volvo, but its size didn't change the fucking tsunami it sent in Zoro's direction as it sped through the puddle on the side of the road. Soaked more thoroughly than he ever thought possible, Zoro snapped. Flipping the driver off, he shouted, "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, ASSHOLE?! THERE'S LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE ON THE STREET AND YOU COULDN'T DODGE ONE FUCKING PUDDLE?! ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT?!"

To his surprise, the car slowed and came to a stop by the curb a little way up the road. For some reason, this only infuriated Zoro further. "YOU WANNA FIGHT OR SOMETHING?! BRING IT ON, BITCH, I'LL -"

The car door opened and a long, lithe, and all too familiar figure followed a light blue umbrella out into the rain. Zoro wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Of all people, it had to be him. That damn blond with the stupid, curly eyebrow, the cocky grin, and the legs that went on forever, the wannabe ladies' man that Zoro had been crushing on for years. Sanji. Though in the same grade, Zoro had only had a handful of classes with him, and in each the blond found some way to get under his skin. Nearly every interaction between them turned into an argument that eventually deteriorated into a slew of senseless insults. They'd even gotten into physical fights a few times. And each time, Zoro became more attracted to the other man.

Of course, he knew he had no chance. Sanji was a notorious skirt-chaser, and though Zoro himself had never witnessed it, he figured he must have  _some_  success. There were stretches of time – sometimes long stretches – when  Zoro didn't see much of Sanji and would think he'd gotten over him, but then the blond would pop up somewhere and the feelings would come back full-force. Zoro had long since given up fighting them, and for his own sake had stopped hoping that the womanizing was a huge cover for secret gay feelings Sanji didn't want to accept yet. So for the most part, Zoro ignored him, but when their paths crossed and the fighting began, he savoured every moment, relishing having the blond's attention trained solely on him.

Not today, though. Not like this. Fighting and name-calling was all well and good, but this was just embarrassing. He knew he looked like a fucking idiot, standing in the rain and screaming at a car. He'd rather have seen anyone climb out of that car – a teacher, that girl he owed money, the principal, his boss – anyone but Sanji.

The blond closed the distance between them and stepped close enough to share his umbrella with Zoro, not that there was any point. He blew a stream of cigarette smoke out of the corner of his mouth and said, "So it is you,  _marimo_."

"Took you til now to figure that out?" Zoro snapped.

"Nah, I figured there couldn't possibly be _two_  idiots with green hair in one town, but I had to check," Sanji replied.

"What do you want, Curly-brow?"

Sanji's expression softened just a little. "It's pouring. You don't even have an umbrella, and I just splashed you. I thought I'd offer you a ride."

Zoro's heart rate picked up. He fought to keep from grinning as he muttered, "I'd get your car wet."

Sanji snorted. "That piece of shit could probably use it." Then he shrugged. "But hey, if you wanna walk in the rain, be my guest. I was gonna invite you over for tea, too, but –"

"I never said no," Zoro interrupted.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

They made their way to the car and climbed in in silence. Despite Sanji's implication, the little car was neat and tidy, though it had clearly seen better days. The air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror did nothing to dispel the heavy smell of cigarettes, but Zoro didn't mind. It was dry and warm. Sanji started the car and a Red Hot Chili Peppers song flowed through the speakers. They didn't speak during the ten-minute drive, but somehow the silence was comfortable. Only as he followed Sanji into the blue-and-white house they'd pulled up to did Zoro start to feel awkward.

"If you wanna shower or something I can toss your clothes in the dryer," Sanji said, glancing over his shoulder at Zoro.

"Uh, sure, that'd be great," Zoro replied.

Sanji showed him to the bathroom, gave him a towel, and told him to leave his clothes outside the door. Zoro peeled off his wet jeans, t-shirt, and socks, then hesitated a moment before adding his boxers to the pile. He bundled it all in his sweater, dropped the bundle in the hall, and stepped into the shower. Standing under the stream of hot water, he let out a sigh of relief. The water chased the cold from his body and the pounding in his head started to recede. He vaguely heard Sanji's footsteps in the hall as he fetched the wet clothing. His stomach fluttered as he realized the situation. He was in Sanji's house. He was  _naked_  in Sanji's house. (A deadpan voice in the back of his head stated,  _No shit you're naked, you're showering._ ) Sanji had picked him up off the street with barely an insult and hadn't even mentioned, let alone made fun of him for the way he'd been yelling. It was surreal.

Zoro stayed in the shower just long enough that he got warm and the migraine went back to being just a headache. He gave the vast array of bottles (mostly hair care products) an amused glance, but decided he'd better not touch anything. It was only when he had towelled himself dry that he remembered he had nothing to wear. He briefly debated calling down to Sanji, but ultimately thought _Fuck it_ , tied the towel around his waist, and headed downstairs, hoping he didn't appear too flustered.

He heard cooking noises and soft music coming from his left and followed the sounds towards the kitchen. Before entering, he did his best to put on a neutral expression, but before he could say a word, Sanji whirled around and exclaimed, "What the fuck?!"

Zoro felt a blush flare across his face and hated himself for it. He was a man, for fuck's sake, they both were. Why should he be embarrassed? "You kind of took my clothes, so..."

"What? No fucking shit. I'm talking about that!" Sanji motioned across Zoro's chest, and he realized the blond was asking about the large scar that traveled from his right hip to his left shoulder.

Even as his embarrassment deepened, he couldn't help but smirk. "It's a hobby of mine." It was far more, but Sanji didn't really need to know that.

"It's a hobby of yours to get chopped in half?" Sanji asked.

Zoro's smirk widened. "That was just an unfortunate side effect of biting off more than you can chew."

Sanji was still eyeing the scar with something like worry on his face. Or maybe Zoro was imagining it. "That doesn't exactly look like a flesh wound."

It hadn't been. Zoro had almost died, and trying to explain the cause of the wound to the hospital and the authorities had been a bitch, but Sanji didn't need to know that either.

"You gonna give me  my clothes, or do you wanna keep staring?"

The blond's eyes flicked up to meet Zoro's instantly. "They're not dry yet, dumbass." He nodded towards the marble-top island in the middle of the kitchen. "Sit."

Zoro made a face at the command but sat anyway, while Sanji turned his attention back to the stove, where something was sizzling. He watched the other man work, deftly handling spatula, pan, and bowl of batter. With the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt rolled up, its top button undone, and a pink apron tied around him, Sanji looked even better than usual. Zoro could see that he was in his element, his comfort zone. There was a fluidity to his movements that Zoro had never seen before, and an ease that was lacking even when the blond was flirting with the ladies. Soon Sanji began to hum along to the music, subtly swishing his hips as he moved food from pan to plate, poured batter, flipped, and repeated.

It was mesmerizing.

"I didn't know you could cook," Zoro commented.

Sanji threw him a smirk over his shoulder and said, "I bet there's a lot you don't know about me, moss-head."

If Zoro hadn't known better, he would have said that sounded a little flirtatious.

"What are you making?"

"You'll see when it's done."

"Oh? A surprise just for me?"

The tips of Sanji's ears turned red, but his voice lost none of its snark. "It's not every day a walking aquatic plant comes over for tea, you know."

Zoro snorted. It was a weak insult, even by Sanji standards. He didn't reply, only continued watching the other. The redness had already left his ears, and Zoro wondered if he'd imagined it. It wasn't like Sanji was trying to impress him or anything. He was probably just hungry and decided to feed Zoro, too. At the thought, Zoro's empty stomach growled loudly. A chuckle from Sanji let him know it hadn't gone unheard.

"I haven't eaten anything all day," Zoro said defensively.

Sanji turned, any trace of humour gone from his face. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have made something more filling you –" He was cut off by a long _beeeeeeep_  sounding from somewhere within the house. "That would be your clothes. Stairs to the basement are the second door on the right. Dryer's to the left at the bottom of the stairs. Can you handle that, or do I need to go get them for you?" Sanji added with a wicked grin.

"Fuck off, it was one time!" Zoro exclaimed, instantly understanding the reference.

"One time that I saw, but I've heard some stories..."

"I'm not going to get lost in this shitty house, Curly-brow."

"You sure you don't need me to hold your hand and walk you there?"

"Fuck off," Zoro repeated and hurried out of the kitchen to hide his reddening cheeks. Sanji remembered  _that_? It had been their grade nine year during Phys Ed. The class was supposed to go to the baseball diamond in the park behind the school, but Zoro (who happened to be in charge of the bats) had somehow found himself in the mall parking lot, which was in the exact opposite direction of the baseball diamond and twice as far from the school. Neither his classmates nor the teacher had let him live it down all semester, but that was years ago. Trust the Eyebrow to remember something so stupid.

Zoro found the basement without difficulty (okay, maybe he went too far down the hall, but he was only off my one door) and got his clothes out of the dryer. He got dressed right there among the piles of laundry, leaving his damp towel in a pile of whites. He took his time returning to the kitchen. The basement was unfinished, all cold cement and bare wooden beams. Neatly stacked boxes lined the walls and a punching bag hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. Zoro wondered why it was there. Every time his fights with Sanji turned violent, the blond used only his legs.

_Kickboxing without the boxing, maybe?_  Zoro mused, wondering not for the first time why the other didn't fight with his hands.  _Probably wants to keep 'em soft and smooth for the ladies_ , Zoro thought bitterly, then instantly kicked himself for being so childish and pointlessly jealous.

"None of this means anything," he reminded himself before climbing back out of the basement.

In the kitchen Sanji had set two places at the island. He was pouring tea when Zoro entered.

"Took you long enough," he said. "You got lost, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," Zoro grumbled as he sat down again. "What's this? Pancakes?" No, they were too thin to be pancakes. Whatever they were, they were wrapped loosely around sliced strawberries.

Sanji gave him a disbelieving look. "They're crêpes, you uncultured swine. What kind of idiot doesn't know what crêpes are?" He shook his head, then slid into the seat opposite Zoro with feline grace. "The truth is, I was planning on using these for a pie, but I figured you wouldn't wanna wait around that long." He popped a strawberry from his own plate into his mouth and licked his lips slowly.

Zoro only just prevented himself from blurting out that he would have waited as long as he had to. Instead, he gave a one-shouldered shrug and said, "Sorry."

Sanji's one visible eyebrow shot up and his lips curled into a grin. "What's this? An apology from you? Alert the media." He laughed. "What are you waiting for? Eat!"

As if in response, Zoro's stomach gave another growl. Resisting the urge to simply stuff his face, Zoro picked up his fork and knife and did his best to cut a neat piece of the middle crêpe on his plate. Sanji watched him intently, long fingers crossed under his chin, his expression expectant.

"Well?" he asked after Zoro had swallowed.

"'S good," he replied, already cutting another piece. Usually he didn't really like sweet things, but this was an exception. Maybe it was because he was so hungry. Maybe it was because Sanji had made them. He glanced up and caught a hint of a smile on the blond's lips. "Thanks."

"No problem," Sanji said, clearly pleased – and clearly trying to hide it. "Maybe next time it'll be pie."

Zoro glanced up sharply, but Sanji had busied himself eating his own crêpes. This time, though, Zoro knew he wasn't imagining the blush on the other's face, redness reaching his ears. He cleared his throat and said, "I'd like that."

Now Sanji did look up, surprise plain in his eye. Zoro back-pedaled automatically. "Unless you were just saying that –"

"No, no, I was serious."

They stared at each other for a moment and looked away at the same time. Trying to keep his gaze anywhere but on Sanji, Zoro took a gulp of tea ... and was instantly rebuked.

"Don't drink it so fast, you're supposed to  _savour_  it, moron! Don't you know anything about food?"

"You eat it," Zoro said bluntly.

Sanji covered his face with one hand and groaned. "I knew it, you're a complete Neanderthal." He uncovered his face. "But you're hungry, so it's okay."

Through a mouthful of strawberries, Zoro said, "You're even weirder than I thought you were, Spiralbrow."

"And idiot and no manners to boot!"

"Shut up, you damn ...  _Ero-cook!_ "

Sanji snorted at the new insult. " _You_ shut up and eat already; I can still hear your stomach complaining."

Zoro complied, but not before sticking out a crêpe-and-strawberry-covered tongue at his host. Sanji smiled sweetly at him and delivered a swift kick to his shin.

"Maybe after you're done I'll beat some goddamn table manners into you," he said cheerfully.

This time Zoro made sure his mouth was empty before replying. "Is that a threat?"

"See, you're learning already!" Sanji said. "Afraid I'll kick your ass?"

"As if you could."

"It's been a while since we fought. I've gotten stronger."

"So have I."

"I guess we'll see." Sanji grinned, then seemed to remember something. "Unless you have to go or whatever. I can totally take a rain-check on kicking your ass." He served himself another crêpe, sprinkling sugar over the strawberries before rolling it up. "At least I'll have something to look forward to."

Zoro measured the other man up. He figured he should probably have said he had to get going and leave it at that. But Sanji sounded like he actually wanted him to stay. And there were all those other weird things, the blushing and the borderline flirting, even the simple fact of ignoring how Zoro had been yelling at him on the road, and now calling a fight with him something to look forward to…? He couldn't do it.

"I have the weekend off and no plans," he said instead. "Heh. Maybe you shoulda baked that pie after all."

Sanji straightened in his seat. "Too late for that, but now I can feed you properly. Hmm, the old man won't be home ‘til late, I can probably get away with taking a bottle of wine. I hear you're quite the fan of alcohol." He got to his feet and sauntered to the fridge to survey its contents.

"You seem to have heard a lot about me," Zoro ventured, polishing off his third (or was it his fourth?) plate of crêpes.

"Mmm, well, you're surprisingly popular, especially with the ladies." Sanji laughed a little, closed the fridge, and started clearing dishes away. "But I haven't heard a word about how you got that scar. You didn't have it freshman year...."

"No, I didn't," Zoro said, surprised. Back in grade nine Phys Ed, Sanji had been the only one to hide in the change room's bathroom stall to change. At the time, Zoro had hoped it was for the same reason he himself kept his eyes glued to the ground while changing, but he had long since dismissed the thought.

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you,” Sanji asked flatly.

“Probably not.”

“ _Probably_ not? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I haven’t decided yet whether or not you can handle it. Pretty brutal stuff, y’know.”

Sanji scoffed. “Anything you can handle I can handle twofold.”

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who offered to take a rain-check on fighting me.”

At that point the blond turned around, eye narrowed. “I was trying to be _considerate_. I guess a meathead like you wouldn’t understand.”

“What was that?” Zoro asked, getting to his feet.

“Meathead,” Sanji repeated. “Or maybe I should say mosshead. Is it as mossy inside as it is outside?”

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid curly brow!”

Sanji grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and said, “Are you this rude to all your friends?”

“We’re not –”

Just then the front door crashed open and a gruff voice called out, “Oi, Eggplant, didn’t I tell you to take out the trash this morning?!”

Sanji’s face went pale and took on a deer-in-headlights expression. His grip on Zoro’s hoodie only tightened.

“I know you’re here, Eggplant!” the voice was growing closer. “Don’t ignore me!”

“Wh-What are you doing here, Geezer?” Sanji shouted over his shoulder.

The owner of the voice appeared in the doorway and Zoro’s jaw dropped. The man was barrel-chested, a head shorter than either him or Sanji, and dressed in chef’s whites. His great blond moustache was tied into two long braids, and the hat on his head was taller than any Zoro had ever seen. But what drew the eye most was the man’s right leg. It stopped just below the knee, where an actual wooden peg-leg began.

The man took in the scene with hawk-like eyes and said, “If you and your new boyfriend wanna fight, do it in the backyard, I won’t have you breaking any more of my stuff.” He looked sharply at Zoro. “Close your mouth, boy. Never seen a wooden leg before?”

Zoro snapped his mouth shut and glanced at Sanji. The colour had come rushing back to his face by then. Red as a tomato, he stammered, “He’s n-not my – ”

“What about that garbage, Eggplant?” the man interrupted, rounding on him.

“I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it!” Sanji exclaimed, releasing his grip on Zoro at last and turning to glare at the man. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to make sure I took out the damn trash.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. You gonna introduce us, or do I have to kick some manners into you?”

Zoro almost laughed at hearing the phrase directed at Sanji.

The blond was fuming. Through gritted teeth, he spat out, “Zoro, this is my old man, Zeff. Old man, this is Zoro. He is _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Zeff said. “Nice to meet you. You look like you can keep this little Eggplant in line. Don’t fight in my house.” He gave Sanji another look. “Don’t forget the garbage.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Sanji snarled.

“Good.” Without another word, Zeff turned and left the kitchen, wooden leg _thunk_ ing. He went into one of the rooms down the hall ( _probably the one I accidentally popped into when I was looking for the basement_ , thought Zoro) and rummaged around for a few minutes before crashing out the door as suddenly as he’d appeared. Sanji leaned against the island, hiding his face in his hands, and didn’t move an inch as Zeff’s car rolled out of the driveway and down the street. Zoro watched him curiously. His face and ears were still aflame, his shoulders slumped in a defeated way. The silence dragged on until Sanji mumbled, “Aren’t you gonna threaten to kill me or something?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Zoro asked.

Sanji uncovered his face and watched him warily. “Most guys like you would.” He straightened up. “I need a smoke.”

Zoro followed him onto the back porch and waited patiently as he dug out a cigarette and lit up. The blond’s hands shook, and Zoro was certain it had nothing to do with the cold or the rain that was still pouring relentlessly. Stuffing his hands into his pockets to fight the chill, Zoro watched Sanji out of the corner of his eye. He knew this behaviour, he knew it well. He’d done the same things when he was younger, when his adoptive father made comments like Zeff’s (albeit more subtle) about Luffy or Usopp. Luckily those two had handled it well, but not everyone had done the same, and Zoro had learned to steel himself against potential hatred. Swallowing thickly, he forced the question out before he lost his nerve, trying to sound casual, like he was half-joking: “So what’s this about me being your _new_ boyfriend?”

Sanji blew out a stream of smoke and kept his gaze somewhere on the grey horizon. “He thinks anyone I bring home is a boyfriend or girlfriend. I have to tell him about twenty times before he believes they’re not. It’s pretty annoying.” He forced a humourless laugh. “I guess that’s the stereotype about bi people, though. We’re sluts or whatever. More importantly, you we’re about to say we’re not friends, weren’t you?”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Zoro muttered. “I didn’t even think you liked me as a person, to be honest.”

At that, Sanji laughed for real. “You sure are stupid.” He turned around and finally looked Zoro square in the face. “I like you a lot, Zoro. But I understand if that makes you uncomfortable or you don’t want to –”

“Who’s the stupid one?” Zoro interrupted. “I’m gay, you idiot. Didn’t hear _that_ from any of your ladies?”

The blond blinked in surprise, but quickly regained his composure and smirked. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

“More than a hint. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time.”

“Y-You have?”

“Yeah.”

Sanji crushed out what remained of his cigarette. “So … you’ll stay for dinner?”

Zoro laughed. “You bet.”

 

Later that night, they lay together on the couch trading soft, slow kisses. The empty wine bottle and glasses still stood on the coffee table, and the lights and music were low. With his stomach full from the delicious meal Sanji had prepared and his mind buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol, Zoro couldn’t have been happier. Sanji’s body fit perfectly against his, and the wine had put the blond in a gentle, smiley mood. He kissed the corner of Zoro’s mouth and murmured, “Don’t you have to get home?”

The last place Zoro wanted to be was the tiny, barren apartment he’d called home for the past couple of years. “No, I don’t.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t feel like moving,” Sanji said.

Zoro smiled and kissed him back. He wasn’t sure how long they’d lain like that when he noticed that Sanji had fallen asleep. He shifted carefully under the other, freeing his right arm from the fold of the couch and wrapping both arms around the blond. He was getting drowsy himself. Before long, he nodded off, and when he woke again, it was dark and a fleece blanket had been draped over him and Sanji, who was sound asleep. Zoro looked around as much as he could, but saw nothing. Just as he was laying his head back down, he heard a soft chuckle from the vicinity of the doorway, behind the couch where he couldn’t see.

“Not your boyfriend, eh? Little Eggplant has a lot to learn.”

Sanji stirred but didn’t wake even as Zeff’s wooden leg thunked along the hall and up the stairs. Zoro breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and was asleep almost instantly.


End file.
